


Angels and Outcasts

by saltybisexualgrantaire (greenhighlighter)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, White Collar Crime, socialite au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenhighlighter/pseuds/saltybisexualgrantaire
Summary: Cosette's father, rich businessman Valjean, is about to be in huge trouble unless Cosette can pull off an impossible heist. Luckily - or not - Éponine Thénardier turns up: infamous, dangerous, and irresistible.





	1. Gold and Diamonds

Jet black shoes, five inch heels, with a red undersole. Black satin dress, falling in sharp waves, slit almost up to the hip. Chunky, knife-edged diamonds glinting on a slim wrist. Dark, cherry-painted nails, lazily twirling a cigarette. A high neckline: a slit, flashing chiselled collarbones, forming a choker-style collar. A lip colour to match the nails. A bold cat's eye. Black hair, half held up by a silver hairpiece. High cheekbones. Flashing eyes.

Éponine Thénardier, with a disparaging glance through dark eyelashes, let her cigarette drop. The flame cut a path through the air, a trail of smoke in its wake: Lucifer, falling from above. It had not touched the wide marble step before she had swirled onwards.

An uncertain usher stepped forwards. "Miss? If you could, ah, give your name? So I can check it against the list?"  
Éponine raised one eyebrow with a smile, a benevolent deity. "Oh?"

"Well, that is policy-" the usher began, hurriedly looking down the list of names he was holding. Having reached the end without making a connection to Éponine, he looked back up. 

The large, gold-edged double doors were swinging closed, and a cigarette was smouldering onto marble.

 

Inside, there wasn't a lily un-gilded, a champagne flute empty, a discussion meaningful. Suits, dresses, smoke swirled around each other, a hollow echo of a dance. Éponine stalked slowly through the room, every step, nod, half smile calculated. Quick glances from sharp eyes identified those she was looking for, those she knew, those she was avoiding.

Suddenly, her progress was arrested - her head turned, eyes fixed even as her legs continued moving. Almost subconsciously, her route became an arc, as though a magnetic attraction was pulling her towards the subject of her gaze.

Cosette Fauchelevent. Éponine ran the information through in her mind. Daughter of Fantine - rich through her mother's divorce. Heiress. Famous, oft-talked of in high society. Holding court to the many admirers circling her, gestures animated, almost believably candid. Dark hair, falling in natural curls onto bare shoulders. A beam of unrealistically placed sunlight, illuminating strokes of shimmering golden highlighter. A pale gold dress, cascading freely from a high waistline. An enchanting smile.

Cosette's eyes locked with Éponine's.

Éponine drew back instantly, instinctively turning to only expose her side. Cosette's eyes followed her thoughtfully, far too perceptive, as Éponine, with the ease of long practice, melted into the crowd.

Éponine shook herself slightly in an attempt to loosen the tightness in her chest, and placed her hand on the arm of a Tom Ford suit: a clichéd, corrupt businessman willing to pay not to get his own hands dirty. But even as she manoeuvred them to a deal highly skewed in her favour, her thoughts - and eyes - kept flitting back to the young heiress in the golden dress, to that glimpse of a strong centre beneath an aura of naivety.

 

Slim fingers curled loosely around the stem of a champagne flute, Éponine lounged against the cold wall, assignments taken care of. She considered her next move; ran through upcoming rendezvous, Babet's perjury accusation, the fickle officers supposed to be in her pay.

A subtle cough sounded.

Cosette Fauchelevent was standing in front of her.

As Éponine looked up, she caught a flash of indecision pass across Cosette's face. She frowned. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to introduce myself," Cosette said, the enchanting smile back again. "Cosette Fauchelevent."

"Mm," Éponine answered noncommittally. "Éponine. Thénardier."

" _Éponine_." Rose-coloured lips shaped the word carefully. Cosette smiled. "Do you regularly attend these parties?"

A grin tugged at the corner of Éponine's lips. "Now, that's either a polite way to say 'you don't belong here' or it's a 'do you come here often?', and I'm not sure which I want it to be."

Cosette smirked, surprisingly arch. "And why is that?"

"If the former, you've got more guts than the bodyguards hanging around here, and that's always entertaining, and if the latter…" Éponine trailed off suggestively.

Cosette grinned outright, ducking her head. "What if I was just making conversation?"

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "You weren't."

Cosette stepped closer, and Éponine felt adrenaline pulsing between them. "I wasn't." She trailed a finger along Éponine's arm, then pulled back into a mock-curtsy. " _Enchanté_."

She disappeared into the crowd, throwing another grin over her shoulder. Éponine tipped her head against the wall with a disbelieving smile.


	2. Enchanted

Éponine looked up sharply from re-loading her gun, and edged silently towards the kitchen door. The knife in her sleeve flashed menacingly as she pointed the gun at the front door, body still shielded by the wall, before twisting around into the hallway with practiced control.

An envelope lay on the floor, gold edging glinting against the tracks stained onto her floor - brown, blood and dirt. Éponine narrowed her eyes and jerked the door open.

"Shit, Ép, give a guy some warning!" A boy tumbled in, curly hair and a leather jacket juxtaposed against a bright yellow t-shirt.

Éponine rolled her eyes, muscles relaxing. "Courfeyrac! Don't lean against people's doors after putting shit through their letter box, dolt."

"Why do you have one of those, by the way?" Courfeyrac sauntered in, seemingly unfazed by both the insult and the gun. "Seems like a security hazard."

"Says the boy who made a bunch of suspicious noises and then waited to be shot," Éponine responded without looking up. "D'you carry this here?"

"Mmhm. Mysterious, huh? It turned up at your other house, the big one."

Éponine looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Okay, first, what were you doing at my house? And second, why the fuck would you pick up a suspicious envelope sent to a known Thénardier establishment?"

"First, your siblings are a hell of a lot more fun than you, and second, Gav threw a stick at it first, so we knew it wasn't a bomb."

"A hell of a lot more stupid, clearly," Éponine muttered. She let her knife fall into her hand and sliced open the envelope.

Courfeyrac peered over her shoulder. "Ooh, what is it?"

Éponine unfolded the letter, running a finger over the embossed emblem, and scanned it quickly. "It's… it's an invitation to a cocktail party at the L'Aigle mansion," she answered slowly, confusion evident in her tone.

Courfeyrac frowned. "What the fuck?" He took the letter from her and read it. "'On the recommendation of Cosette Fauchelevent' - who's that?"

Éponine snatched the letter back. "What?"

A grin spread over Courfeyrac's face. "Éponine! Something you want to share with the class?"

"I'm fully armed and can kill you in a number of ways, each more painful than the last?" Éponine suggested flatly.

Courfeyrac smirked, undeterred. "How long have you known her? Was it love at first sight? Is this gonna be like Romeo and Juliet, because I'm totally Mercutio and also none of us are going to die, this metaphor is falling down around me."

Éponine rolled her eyes fondly. "Anyway, it's not a big deal, we just met at a party I was working at."

Courfeyrac considered. "D'you think she wants you for a job, than?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or for your _body_." Éponine smacked him round the head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

"Bloody learn to," Éponine muttered. "But yeah, I dunno. It's a bit unusual. It must just be a really important job. She didn't seem the type, though." Courfeyrac opened his mouth. "Don't say anything."

"I wasn't gonna!" Courfeyrac objected, giving her an injured look. "You gonna go, then?"

Éponine shrugged, shoulders rolling under a loose purple sweater, and rubbed her right temple. "Don't know. Might as well, I guess."

Courfeyrac clapped her on the shoulder. "That's my girl. Follow your heart!"

Éponine rolled her eyes, grinning. "Oh, shush. How much do you have on the L'Aigles? Or Cosette's lot, either, come to that."

"Ooh, now Cosette I know about. Fantine's her mum - not actually sure who she is, but badass. Married and divorced Tholomyès, clinching half the fortune, the other half of which he's continuing to lose gambling. Legal ward of Valjean - again, a bit shady. Nothing compared to your lot, obviously, but there's been murmurs."

Éponine laughed. "Aren't there always? And the L'Aigles - old money?"

"Oh, yeah, loaded. Most of their cash is in straight-up gold, I heard. Crazy."

Éponine shook her head disbelievingly. "Well, maybe Cosette wants me to rob them."

Courfeyrac burst out laughing. "Oh, god, Éponine. Outrageous!"

Éponine narrowed her eyes. " _Outrageous_? Courfeyrac, your vocabulary is barely more advanced than a twelve year old's. Anything _you_ want to share with the class?"

Courfeyrac flushed. "No, whatever, shut up, it's not a big deal."

"I'll tell you about Cosette if you tell me about whoever's got you saying shit like 'outrageous'. You're not a suburban soccer mom, Karen."

"Oh, fuck you," Courfeyrac retorted.

"Eloquent," Éponine teased. "What'd your boyfriend say to that sort of language?"

"He's not my - oh, fuck you."

Éponine grinned triumphantly. "Oh, honey. I do this for a living." Nevertheless, she leant back against the wall, gracious in victory. "So how's our little revolutionary?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Courfeyrac's mouth even as he frowned at Éponine in an attempt at protest. "Leave him alone, he'd be pissed if he heard you call him that."

Éponine laughed. "Why do you think I do it? I call him that in front of him too, don't worry. How's he doing?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "He's been toning down the protests recently, but I've heard talk of 'infiltration'."

Éponine let out a disbelieving, if amused, breath. "Crazy. Nice kid, but crazy."

"Kid? He's the same age as you."

"And about two feet tall, and with the idealism of a five year old." Éponine yawned. "I should really get some sleep some time this week. Don't let Zel and Gav blow themselves up, call me if anything comes up, don't get yourself shot."

Courfeyrac winked. "See, you love me really."

"You try to employ someone of actual use in this job, and you won't want them getting shot. Out, I've gotta sleep."

"Love you!" Courfeyrac called brightly, heading to the door.

"Whatever!" Éponine yelled back. Courfeyrac grinned.

* * *

 

Éponine slung a voluminous faux-fur cape over a short skin-tight dress, and slid her pistol into the holster hidden by the fur. Just as she slid strappy heels on, a teenage girl appeared in the doorway. 

"Hey, Ép."

"Hey, Zel. What's up?" She snatched a black clutch from her dressing table as she strode towards the door.

"The sky," the girl answered dryly, and received a smack to the back of the head. "When you gonna be back?"

Éponine shrugged. "Dunno. When d'you need me?"

"Oh, we'll be fine, just tryna plan." She flashed Éponine a crooked grin. 

Éponine rolled her eyes as she headed towards the front door. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

A surprisingly open smile shone through sharp teeth and sharper eyeliner. "So we'll draw the line somewhere around the murder of innocents?"

"Draw the line plenty before that, young lady." Éponine squeezed her shoulder. "Look after yourselves, the both of you."

"Fine, whatever. Don't you get yourself arrested."

"Fine, whatever."

Éponine swung the front door shut behind her, double-locked it, and listened until she heard Azelma slide the bolt across, then clicked her fingers above her head as she strode down the steps, heels clacking against the marble.

The black Porsche slipped around the corner of the house, light glinting off sleek curves. Éponine pulled open the door and slid into the passenger seat.

"Hey, Feuilly."

"Evening, ma'am," the young man in the front seat answered through a smirk.

Éponine rolled her eyes, smiling. "God, don't do that."

"Ms Thénardier?"

"Even worse." Éponine swung her feet onto the dashboard as Feuilly laughed softly. She scanned him thoughtfully, narrowing her eyes at the dark marks on his neck. "So, as my employee, have you been here all day like I pay you to be?"

Feuilly bit down on a grin. " _Some_ of us should be getting some."

Éponine gave him a pointedly disapproving look, then groaned. "Everyone seems to getting some around here."

"Enjolras?"

"Oh, shush, obviously not. But Courfeyrac's got a secret boyfriend who talks like a soccer mom, you've got your secret 'hook-up'.

"Boyfriend? I couldn't even get a gender out of him, impressive. And what's 'hook-up' in quotes for?"

Éponine smirked. "It's the same person, sweetheart."

A flush suffused Feuilly's cheeks as he pulled the car out of the gates. "I hate working for you. Where are we going?"

"The L'Aigles. And you've got a great neck, hon, but if they'd vary hickey destinations, it'd be slightly more subtle."

Feuilly made a face, pushing back thick dark hair with one hand. "Yeah, well. Doesn't really have to be subtle on me."

Éponine raised her eyebrows. "And why does it have to be subtle on them?"

Feuilly pushed his jaw to one side, his eyes fixed on the road.

"Feu?"

"It's a dirty little secret thing," Feuilly answered, his light tone forced. "You know how these socialite types are."

"I can tell when you're lying," Éponine responded, but pulled a lipstick from her bag to reapply it in the mirror, snatching a glance at the tightness in Feuilly's jaw.

"And I can tell when you're being concerned at me," Feuilly answered, with a slight grin. "I'm fine, Ép, I knew what I was getting into."

"Doesn't mean you want it."

Feuilly shrugged. "I'll take what I can get."

"Communication is key," Éponine quoted, shooting him a smile.

Feuilly laughed. "Éponine, relationship expert and part-time therapist. So why're you going to Swanky McSwank house?"

"Don't know. The Fauchelevent girl invited me."

Feuilly raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"Oh, shush, I've had enough of it from Courf."

Feuilly just grinned and swung the car onto a side road.

 

Éponine stepped deliberately out of the car, stilettos glinting on the gravel, and strode through the open double doors, smiling. A wolf's smile, daring them to question her presence. Their gazes dropped before her.

A streak of white caught her eye, slipping between grey-clad businessmen, and Cosette Fauchelevent appeared. Éponine could think only of a goddess: an alabaster dress, held up from one shoulder, wrapped around her waist, brushing her knees; pearls shining amidst dark hair.

Cosette smiled into her eyes, and the other guests faded away. Éponine smiled back over the thudding of her heart in her throat.

"Éponine. I'm so glad you could make it."

Éponine raised one shoulder, feigning apathy, but let a grin break through. "How could I miss it? Mysterious invitation from a pretty girl, I'm there."

Cosette grinned too. "That sounds like a pretty dangerous weakness, in your line of work."

"My line of work? Whatever could you mean, Fauchelevent? I'll have you know, everything I've ever done has been both legal and moral."

"An upstanding citizen," Cosette deadpanned. "An example to us all."

Éponine quirked an eyebrow. "Let's be honest, I'm not the most immoral person in this room."

"Ooh, an exposé," Cosette joked. "Oh, c'mon, you can't leave me hanging now! Okay, point to someone, and I'll guess what they've done."

Éponine scanned the room mock-thoughtfully, and nodded towards a young man flirting with a waiter.

Cosette looked highly unimpressed. "Parnasse? Oh, come on, everyone knows that."

"Hey! You asked, I delivered. And it's not like I'm the only person here who knows people's secrets, huh? I've heard rumours about your father."

Cosette froze for a second, then laughed. "Well, hasn't everyone?"

Éponine looked at her. "You're okay, hon, I've only heard that there are rumours. And as we've established, I'm not qualified to judge on that subject. Now that lady in the scarf? Guess how much she embezzled?"

Cosette giggled. "No way! She's so old!"

"Oh, you better believe it, love."

* * *

Feuilly gave Éponine an amused eye roll as he swung the Porsche through the second pair of decorative iron-wrought gates that week. "So, this a date, or a date?"

Éponine flipped him off. "So, you sorted out your communication issues yet?"

"Touché." He grinned. "I won't wait up."

"Oh, fight me," Éponine answered, sliding out of the passenger seat.

Cosette looked like a princess out of a fairytale as she leant against a stone pillar, silver column dress tight against the planes of her body, dark hair in a simple knot. "Éponine!"

" _Eve_ -ning. And what brings a pretty girl like this here tonight?"

Cosette grinned. "I heard that this _infamous_ girl was gonna be here. They say she's stolen even more money than that old lady, y'know."

"Huh!" Éponine could feel Cosette's breath on her neck. "That's pretty impressive. Think you could introduce me?"

Cosette looked up at her, eyes dancing. "Ooh, I'm not sure. I think I want her all to myself."

"If you're not talking about me, this really isn't a fun conversation," Éponine replied dryly, trying to hold back a smile.

"Oh? Well, looks to be a fun night." Cosette's lips brushed her neck, and then she disappeared into the crowd.

Éponine let out a breath, tipping her head back in awe. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Feuilly leaning on the steering wheel. She glared at him, struggling to keep the smile off her face. He grinned, holding his hands up in surrender, and revved the engine.

 

Inside, Éponine spotted Cosette easily, noting with a frown the tighter clench of her jaw and the tenseness of her posture. She ran a hand down her back. "You alright?"

Cosette turned and smiled charmingly. "Absolutely. Want to get a drink?" She caught Éponine's hand and pulled her to the bar, laughing, and Éponine allowed herself to sink into the moment.

Of course, it couldn't last.

 

"Can I talk to you?" Cosette asked quietly, later, when the buzz of the party was dying down.

Éponine nodded, frowning, and Cosette led her inconspicuously into a small side room. She watched in silence as Cosette pulled on a stray lock of hair and twisted and untwisted her fingers.

Finally, Cosette spoke. "So, as I imagine you know, my father isn't - the most law-abiding man in the world. Which is usually fine, and the police around here are corrupt as anything, but recently a freelance investigator turned up from Dad's past, and he wants him to be brought to justice. And Dad - he hasn't done anything wrong, he's just helped people, but this investigator, he doesn't see it that way, and if I don't do something, he'll go to prison, it's just some evidence that needs to be destroyed, Javert - the investigator - is trying to get a warrant, so we have a little time, and I need you to help me, Éponine, I need you to save him."

Éponine stepped back an inch, intuitive, defensive. "Oh. Okay. I see."

"Éponine?"

Éponine looked at her. Dress shimmering down her body like a silken river; pale rose lips; one curl tumbling loose; wide pleading eyes. She was falling terrifyingly fast: she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins every time she looked at Cosette. And, as she would whine to Courfeyrac later, she had a tendency to do things that she knew she would regret. She schooled her face into a lazy smirk. "When do we start, baby?" 

A smile bloomed on Cosette's face. Something hurt in Éponine's chest.


End file.
